In my younger and more vulnerable years,
my father gave me some advice.
"Always try to see the best in people," he would say.
As a consequence, I'm inclined to reserve all judgments.
But even I have a limit.
Back then, all of us drank too much.
The more in tune with the times we were,
the more we drank.
And none of us contributed anything new.
When I came back from New York, I was disgusted.
I see, Mr. Carraway.
Disgusted with everyone and everything.
病人姓名 尼克·卡罗威 体♥检♥结果 酗酒过度 失眠 易怒 焦虑
Only one man was exempt from my disgust.
医嘱 1929年12月1日 初次问诊 盖茨比
Was he a friend of yours?
He was the single most hopeful person I've ever met.
And am ever likely to meet again.
There was something about him, a sensitivity.
He was like,
he was like one of those machines
that register earthquakes 10,000 miles away.
Where'd you meet him?
At a, at a party
in New York.
In the summer of 1922,
the tempo of the city approached.
Stocks reached record peaks,
and Wall Street boomed in a steady golden roar.
The parties were bigger.
The shows were broader.
The buildings were higher.
The morals were looser,
and the ban on alcohol had backfired
making the liquor cheaper.
Wall Street was luring the young and ambitious.
And I was one of them.
I rented a house 20 miles from the city on Long Island.
I lived at West Egg
in a forgotten groundskeeper's cottage,
squeezed among the mansions of the newly rich.
To get started, I bought a dozen volumes
on credit, banking and investments.
All new to me.
The stock market hit another high.
The market's moving up, up, up!
Well, of course, nothing is 100 percent.
I wouldn't go investing every penny.
At Yale I dreamed of being a writer
but I gave all that up.
With the sun shining and the great bursts of leaves on the trees,
I planned to spend the summer studying.
And I probably would have were it not,
for the riotous amusements that beckoned
from beyond the walls of that colossal castle
owned by a gentleman I had not yet met named Gatsby.
So, he was your neighbor.
My neighbor. Yeah.
When I think about it, the history of the summer really began
the night I drove over to my cousin Daisy's for dinner.
She lived across the bay in old moneyed,
Her husband was heir to one of America's wealthiest families.
His name was Tom Buchanan.
When we were at Yale together, he'd been a sporting star.
But now his glory days were behind him
and he contented himself with...
Telephone, Monsieur Buchanan.
- It's me. - other affairs.
I thought I told you not to call me here.
How's the great American novel coming?
I'm selling bonds with Walter Chase's outfit.
Let's say after dinner, you and I, we go into town.
- I can't. - Catch up with the old wolf pack.
-明天还上班 -废话 让你去就去
- Big day on the job tomorrow. - Nonsense! We're going.
First team, all-American.
Made me who I am today.
Played the Prince of Wales. What a sissy.
Life is something you dominate, Nick.
If you're any good.
Where are you?
- Sorry. - Thank you.
Is that you, my lovely?
Daisy Buchanan, the golden girl.
A breathless warmth flowed from her.
A promise that there was no one else
in the world she so wanted to see.
Do they miss me in Chicago?
Yes. Um, at least a dozen people send their love.
They're absolutely in mourning.
-他们愁眉苦脸 真的 -瞎说
- They're crying. Yes. - No.
- I don't believe you. - Wailing.
- I don't believe you. - They're screaming.
"Daisy Buchanan, we can't live without you!"
I'm paralyzed with happiness.
Jordan Baker. A very famous golfer.
She was the most frightening person I'd ever seen.
Well, I've seen your face on the cover of Sporting Life.
But I enjoyed looking at her.
I've been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.
This summer I'll fling you two together.
I'll push you into linen closets,
and out to sea in boats!
-想得美 -对了 尼克
- I'm not listening to a word. - So, Nick,
Daisy tells me that you're over in West Egg throwing your lot in
with those social-climbing primitive new-money types.